September, 2006

Veterans of the Vietnam rock-n-roll circuit, The Rice Growers head into town this weekend to rattle the FCC rooftop.

In one line-up or another, The Rice Growers have been rocking Saigon and parts north for a decade with original interpretations of big-boppin’ rock classics and dance-floor favorites.

The three-man, one-girl band rolls into town this weekend for two gigs. Saturday the band plays the FCC rooftop. Sunday they will set up in the garden at Talkin’ to a Stranger.

Fronted by ‘Little Phuong’, The Rice Growers serve up an eclectic mix of dance-hall boogie, straight-ahead rock and classic ballads by the likes of the Rolling Stones, The Smiths, Bob Dylan and Midnight Oil.

at a glance

The FCC Permanent Collection, six decades of Cambodian history in photographs.

Like the enigmatic faces of the Bayon prevalent in his work, John Fei’s art insinuates that some greater, more complex beauty lies within, and challenges us to find it.

At the FCC Phnom Penh through September 30, Fei’s untitled exhibit comprises mostly photographs of the Bayon, murals from the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh and bas-reliefs from Angkor Wat. While certainly noteworthy on their own, it is Fei’s artwork, what he calls “photosculpture,” that makes his collection of work remarkable.

In a piece titled “Recreation” (above), Fei combines images taken from the Royal Palace, embellishing many with original framing. Despite the heavy reliance on original Khmer artistry, the new storyline Fei creates remains distinctive with the flourishes and inflections of Fei’s own artistic voice.

In “Flying” (left), Fei fills a skewed wooden frame with blocks of what looks like prints from a psychedelic microscope. Hanging against a brick wall, three orange butterflies linger about, providing a subtle touch of color. The whole looks like something from Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, a surreal, looking-glass time warp that might suck you into another dimension.

Fei did not take up art or photography until 2003, he says, which only adds to the impressiveness of his work. A 58-year-old Chinese-American, he sometimes collaborates with other artists, namely sculptress Lily Han, who does most of his metal work. He has no formal education in art. His exhibit at the FCC Angkor three months ago was his first.

Yet for someone who lacks any formal training, Fei shows an uncanny understanding of fundamental art theory. A cursory glance at “Flying” reveals complex textures, deft use of line to create rhythm and a nimble understanding of light, color, balance and proportion.

Perhaps symbolic of it all, the standout of Fei’s collection is one enigmatic photograph of candy-colored pumps on a Chinese newspaper. For it Fei offers no account, except to state a philosophy of similar paradox.

The hunt for the kouprey — Cambodia’s elusive national animal reportedly worth millions, if not more — is an essential part of the animals myth and mystery.

Wildlife expert Lic Vuthy has released an analysis of more than six decades of reports and field studies on the legendary kouprey — Cambodia’s national animal. Vuthy’s aim was to discern the status of the semi-mythical forest ox once described as “Southeast Asia’s version of the Loch Ness monster.”

Vuthy concluded that the last proven sighting of a kouprey was in 1983, and that the species may have completely vanished sometime during the late 1980s. The report echoes the opinions of wildlife experts who have been skeptical about the animal’s survival for many years. But, not everyone is convinced.

In “Quest for the Kouprey,” a definitive 1995 article on the subject, author Steve Hendrix wrote “the most painful of all [has been] the excruciating near-successes of fresh tracks, second-hand reports and botched captures. To show for it all, science has amassed a kouprey collection amounting to little more than a couple hundred pounds of bones and a few feet of grainy film footage.”

“It is probable that kouprey are biologically extinct in the wild,” said Hunter Weiler, advisor to the Department of Forestry and Wildlife. “But the best case scenario is that there is a handful of individuals scattered around, dying one by one. Its extinction is not confirmed.”

In fact, Vuthy’s report has been disputed within the Forestry Administration and by a government that has been reluctant to tackle an indelicate question: what does a country do if its national animal becomes extinct?

“Most people in the government don’t want to believe that the kouprey is gone. It’s an emotional and political decision, not one based on fact,” Weiler said. “It’s kind of like the abominable snowman and a lot of other things; there is a lot faith and ingrained belief behind it but no cold, hard evidence.”

Controversy, mystery and mishap are nothing new for the elusive kouprey. Since it was identified by Western science in 1937, the species’ tragicomic history has included heavily armed expeditions, billion-dollar jackpots and heart-pounding peril. The search for the stealthy mammal has lured journalists, scientists, big game hunters and adventures. Over the years, the infrequent forays into the Kouprey’s war-torn region have been met with disease, land mines, gunplay and, for the most part, frustration.

In “Quest for the Kouprey,” a definitive 1995 article on the subject, author Steve Hendrix wrote “the most painful of all [has been] the excruciating near-successes of fresh tracks, second-hand reports and botched captures. To show for it all, science has amassed a kouprey collection amounting to little more than a couple hundred pounds of bones and a few feet of grainy film footage.”

“It’s a bit like looking for the Yeti or Bigfoot, this animal,” British biologist James MacKinnon said after his own efforts to locate a kouprey. “First, it was just extremely rare and then it was shrouded in mystery through 30 years of warfare. It’s become sort of a symbol of conservation in Indochina.”

The most successful kouprey specialist was the late US conservationist Dr Charles H. Wharton. A World Wildlife Federation report claims “The best, most complete field data on the kouprey was obtained by Charles Wharton in field work in the 1950s.”

In 1951 Wharton led a 90-man group — including 60 Royal Government soldiers — on a two-month excursion in the Choam Ksan and Koh Ker areas of Preah Vihear province. He caught on film six separate groups of kouprey — the only existing footage. Wharton estimated that there were roughly 400 to 500 head of kouprey west of the Mekong, 200 to 300 in Lomphat wildlife sanctuary and 50 in the Samrong district of Kratie province.

In 1964, King Norodom Sihanouk “designated the kouprey as Cambodia’s National Animal and declared Kulen Prum Tep, Lomphat and Phnom Prich as wildlife sanctuaries for kouprey conservation.”

The same year, Wharton launched a unlucky mission to capture live kouprey for captive breeding. He was able to capture five, but lost them all: two died and three escaped.

“It’s amazing the bad luck, the problems that have surrounded the kouprey,” Wharton said in an interview with International Wildlife magazine. “It’s almost like the thing has some sort of an ancient spell over it that man is not to learn about or capture this animal.”

To a country that arguably invented the sport, the Cambodian National Kickboxing Championships represent the greatest sporting event of the year, rich with history and emotion, filled with blood, sweat and tears.

Correction

The original version of this story incorrectly stated the dates for the Cambodian National Championships. The tournament begins October 9th.

photography

Cambodian kickboxing champion Eh Phoutong takes a quick breath and then explodes with a high kick. The champ’s opponent, a foreigner who no one has ever heard of, sees the kick coming and throws up his left arm to block.

The bone shatters. Eh Phoutong, a titanic source of Cambodian national pride, takes another easy victory.

For his loss and his troubles, the barang will pocket $125. Average Khmer boxers get a fraction of that for winning, about $25, less if they lose.

As a nine-to-five it’s brutal, brain damaging, and one of the toughest ways a person can make a living. But there’s no shortage of fighters.

This year, the national tournament that ranks Cambodian boxers will double in size to two rings instead of one and take place over five days instead of three. Beginning October 9th at TV5, the 2006 Cambodian National Championships will comprise 100 fights and culminate in the official ranking of dozens of fighters and crown belt winners in every weight class.

As a country, Cambodia claims 100 fight clubs, 300 registered fighters and untold thousands waiting ringside for a chance to break into the ranks. The stage of the national championships represents the crossroads for every up-and-comer in the country. Winners will go on to more fights and, with any luck, more money.

The losers? Nobody ever talks about losing. Losers don’t get anything except another year to try and come to their senses.

Small-timers

“I had been a professional boxer back in my village, but you can’t make any money in the provinces so I came to Phnom Penh,” says Dara, a veteran boxer who everyone knows as Boss. “A fighter earns $25 for winning a fight. How can we live on that?”

“I wound up living on the streets. And without proper food to eat, winning got harder and harder.”

Cambodia is a country full of guys like Boss. They typically come from rural families out in the provinces and are drawn to the sport by dreams of wealth. Prospects can be dim in the countryside, and subsistence farming is a way of life for many. Twenty-five dollars can represent a month’s wages or more.

If a fighter can earn a name for himself, winning stakes can jump to $50 a fight. Fight sponsors often give product too. It is common for sponsors to ceremoniously hand fighters a bottle of wine or a carton of cigarettes before their fights. The occasional big-ticket item, such as a television or a new moto, comes along every now and again too.

But a fighter’s real interest isn’t with any silly gift packs or a narrow stack of ten-spots.

The real money comes from tips. After each fight, fans in the audience will give a little congratulations money to the winner, a buck or two for up-and-comers, $50 or $100 for well-ranked fighters. Those watching on TV can call in and pledge. The better the fighter, the better the tips. Reportedly, Eh Phoutong can earn as much as $7,000 for a single 5-round fight. Prime Minister Hun Sen, an ardent boxing fan, often tips as much as $2,000 or $3,000.

All but extinct five years ago, the ancient warrior fighting art of Bokator Khmer is making a comeback, with the first tournament in nearly 1,000 years scheduled for this September.

On the verge of disappearing only five years ago, the ancient warrior fighting art of Bokator Khmer is making a comeback, with the first tournament in nearly 1,000 years scheduled for this September.

Depicted in bas reliefs at Angkor Wat, Bokator Khmer is the hand-to-hand combat system used by the ancient Angkorean army. The art bears much responsibility for Cambodia’s domination during the Angkorean era.

Like so many Cambodian traditions, the sport was nearly lost during the country’s conflicts of the late 20th century. Not until 2001, when Grand Master Sam Kim Saen returned to his homeland after decades abroad, did the sport have a teacher or patron.

“During the Khmer Rouge time, masters of traditional arts, such as painting, dancing, music and martial arts were hunted down and killed,” Sam explains. “All of my training brothers and students, as well as two of my children, were killed by the Khmer Rouge.”

Not long after coming home, Sam started teaching again. But it wasn’t enough. Reviving the lost fighting art would take more. He began combing the countryside looking for old Bokator teachers.

The men he found at first had little interest in returning to the art. The suppression of Bokator under the Khmer Rouge, and later the occupying Vietnamese army, still filled many of them with fear. They told him teaching the sport openly was crazy.

“I tried to tell them it was okay, we already had permission from the government. But they wouldn’t listen,” Sam says.

“You have a great gift which was given to you by our ancestors,” he pleaded. “Do you want to steal it from our children? When you die, the art will die with you.”

In the end, his pleas worked.

“In April of 2004 we held the first Bokator conference in Phnom Penh,” Sam says. “Now there are schools in eight provinces, and we are preparing for national championships.”

Bokator, like Chinese Kung Fu, has various styles that teach students to emulate the fighting of a particular animal. Bokator uses colored kramas instead of belts and contains ten animal styles. The five “white kramas” animal forms are king monkey, lion, elephant, apsara and crocodile. The “green krama” forms are duck, crab, horse, bird and dragon.

Bokator is a complete martial art. It uses strikes, throws, drags, trapping, locking and includes ground-fighting techniques. Every single part of the body can be used as a weapon. Bokator practitioners are trained to strike with knees, hands, elbows, feet, shins, and head. Even the fingers, hip, jaw, and shoulders can be used to pound an opponent.

The first national Bokator competition will be held at Olympic Stadium in Phnom Penh, from September 26-29. The competition will comprise 20 teachers, leading teams from nine provinces.

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